


Can I Keep Him?

by LetItSet



Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Chip the Husky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-12-22 17:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11972355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetItSet/pseuds/LetItSet
Summary: Usnavi and Sonny get a puppy. Usnavi just doesn't know it yet, that's all.Based on pika-ace's The Two Cousins. Set three weeks after the end of the musical.





	1. The World Spins Around

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pikaace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikaace/gifts).



> This is a fic from pika-ace’s The Two Cousins universe, but also it's not? I took a few creative liberties, such as:
> 
> -Usnavi is Sonny’s legal guardian and planned on taking Sonny to DR with him (this is more about the musical though like I know Sonny canonically has a Mom but you'd only know that if you saw Lin’s one tweet and when I first saw one of the performances on YouTube I sort of assumed Sonny lived with him and I was like ‘USNAVI BRING YOUR CHILD WITH YOU WHAT THE FUCK’)  
> -I guess this takes place in 2017 because Sonny has a smartphone? It’s a few models behind the latest but he got it for a good deal with a little of his lotto winnings because he wanted to send memes to Pete or something idk  
> -Chip is a pupper instead of a full grown dog (that one's obvious because that's the whole point of this fic)  
> -Chip has BACKSTORY. I gave backstory to a dog OC that isn't even mine. 
> 
> And probably other stuff in later chapters. So I guess it's more inspired by The Two Cousins and also Chip is there? 
> 
> Can I Keep Him?: It's Like The Two Cousins But Worse©
> 
> Also, there’s some headcanons from pika-ace’s tumblr that I liked thrown in every once and awhile. Spot them all and you get nothing except this garbage fic.

Usnavi’s up at the crack of dawn, just like every other day.

Sonny’s not, just like every other day.

“I practically drag him out of bed, he still can’t get his ass out the door on time,” Usnavi mutters to himself as he shuts the door to the apartment building behind him. What even takes the kid so long? It’s not like his hygiene regimen is that strict.

Usnavi leaves those thoughts aside as he makes his way to the bodega, lingering outside the grate. It’s been almost three weeks and he’s still not used to the mural of Abuela being there. Not completely, at least.

The spray paint smell has finally faded, but the paint his holding up strong. Usnavi grazes the tips of his pointer and middle finger to his lips and quickly taps of of the glossy cheeks before pulling up the grate and going about opening up the store. A motion that seemed downright silly the first time he did it is starting to become just another part of the routine. Even if she isn’t physically there, Abuela still deserves the kiss she always got from her surrogate grandson every morning.

It isn’t the same, but just like always, he’s working okay with what he’s been given.

The entire barrio is still trying to accept the sudden loss of their beloved matriarch, but it gets easier every day. Life goes on, and deep down, they know Abuela wouldn’t want them to be sad over her.

It still doesn’t make Usnavi feel any better when he hears the first door chime of the day and realizes it’s not going to be Abuela.

It turns out to be Kevin and Camila Rosario so, nonetheless, he smiles and greets them, their usual coffee orders alway made. “I’m surprised you two are still getting up so early,” he confesses, handing them their paper cups. “Now that you’ve sold the dispatch, I figured you were going to take it easy.”

“I don’t think I could sleep in if I wanted to,” Kevin confesses before taking his first sip. “When you do the same thing at the same time every day for twenty years, it’s hard to stop.”

Camila pats her husband’s arm. “The man’s going stir crazy without something to obsess over. It hasn’t even been a month since we sold our first business and he’s trying to convince me to open another one.”

Usnavi’s been absentmindedly prepping the other regulars’ coffee orders while they talked, but the confession causes him to perk up slightly. “Oh, really?” The Rosarios are one of the more well-off families in the neighborhood but they still need to keep Nina’s Stanford tuition in mind. He didn’t think they’d jump right into another potentially costly venture so quickly. From the looks of it, Camila didn’t either.

Kevin snakes an arm around her waist, ignoring her unamused stare. “Cami, muñeca, we could send Nina to grad school if you were to open your own restaurant.”

“Let’s focus on getting her through her undergrad studies first.”

Kevin ignores her, gestures towards Usnavi and asks, “Wouldn’t you pay good money for Camila’s sorullos?”

“If she wasn’t always feeding them to me for free, absolutely.”

Camila smacks her husband’s hand away. “Usnavi, wouldn’t you also like to see us not eat into what’s left of our savings and end up living under the GWB?”

“Again, absolutely.”

Kevin takes a break from sipping his coffee to tell his wife, “Camila, you’ve been talking about having your own restaurant since we moved to America and now that I’m saying we should do it, suddenly you want nothing to do with it!”

Camila ignores the ding in the background as she says, “That’s not true, I’m just saying that we know nothing about running a restaurant-”

“You’re opening a restaurant?” Carla skips over, a miracle considering the height of her heels. “Camila, that’s amazing!”

“No, we were just-”

“Gracias dios,” an exasperated Daniela exclaims, making her presence known as she joins the group. “The food truck that parks across the street from us couldn’t make a good quesito if you held them at gunpoint.”

“That might because they make barbeque,” Carla tells her before she thanks Usnavi for her coffee.

As she hands Usnavi the money for their drinks, Daniela rolls her eyes. “It’s dough filled with cheese, excuse me for thinking they could handle it.”

Despite the new salon being located in the Bronx, Daniela and Carla still make a habit of getting their coffee from Usnavi’s almost every morning. Daniela claims it’s because the clerk at the mini mart down the street from their salon tried to poison her (which in Daniela talk means giving her decaf), but Carla told Usnavi in a hushed tone one morning that they just like getting to see the faces they’ve known for years, even if it’s only for five minutes. That, and they always bring juicy ghetto gossip that they just have to share.

“I am not opening a restaurant!” Camila exclaims. “It’s all just talk right now.”

“So was the dispatch,” Kevin points out. “Everything’s talk until you make it happen. And besides, we know we’ve got an entire block full of people who would be there opening night.”

Camila almost considers asking Usnavi if he has any whiskey to add to her coffee. She has a feeling she’s going to regret what she’s about to say. “You know I’d love to have a restaurant of my own, but I don’t even know where we’d start.”

Carla taps a finely manicured finger to her cheek, deep in thought. “Usually you start with some chips and salsa. Sometimes queso, if the place is really fancy.”

There’s a beat of silence, as there usually is when Carla talks.

“She has a point. Sort of,” Daniela tells the group. “No restaurante worth a damn is anything without a good menu. Start there.”

Camila takes her final sip of coffee as she considers this. “Well… It’s not like I have anything better to do.” Kevin opens his mouth but one upheld finger from her shuts his yap immediately. “I am not saying yes… But planning a menu could be fun. We’ll see where it goes.”

As Carla excitedly chatters about wanting to help with the menu and Daniela tries to reign in her peppy best friend, Usnavi wipes down the counter, chiming into the conversation the group is having every once in a while before they say their goodbyes. Looking back, he realizes how much he would have missed the people he had grown up with.

Speaking of someone he grew up with, here comes his cousin.

“Sonny, you’re late.” That sentence is also part of his daily routine.

Sonny scratches at the back of his neck as he pours a cup of coffee for himself. “I’m a growing boy, I need more sleep than you.”

He fills his cup a third of the way with coffee and dumps some milk in the rest of the way. Considering the cafe is already con leche, he’s pretty much just having a little bit of coffee with his milk. Usnavi doesn’t doesn’t argue with him because it’s not like Sonny needs caffeine.

Usnavi stops cleaning, looking unimpressed. “Maybe you could actually get it if you didn’t sneak out of bed to watch reruns of telenovelas.”

His coffee stirring hesitates. “I’m trying to learn Spanish, cuz.”

“Spanish is your first language.”

“Yeah, but now I know how to gasp in Spanish.” Sonny sets his cup aside so he can lean back against the coffee counter, loudly gasping and covering his forehead with the back of his hand in the most melodramatic manner possible, nearly falling over in the process.

Usnavi tries to hide his smile at his cousin’s antics by throwing the rag at him. “I don’t pay you to gasp, mijo. Get to work.”

//

"Are you sure you don't want me to send your morning coffee to the salon? Sonny's real quick if you give him a Red Bull."

Hearing Vanessa laugh over the phone still makes his stomach do flip flops. "I'm sure. I swear, once I get fully settled in, I'll be in every single day, just like before."

"I'll have your usual ready for you when you do." Usnavi finishes signing for the latest shipment of laundry detergent, phone tucked between his should and cheek. After signalling for the guy to put the boxes in the backroom, he says, "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I don't want you to be late for your shift. You know Dani's going to hold that co-sign over your head for the rest of your life, right?"

"Last week she told me I have to name my first-born after her... So yeah. I'm aware. My train's here, I'll see you later."

Usnavi says his goodbyes, ignores the delivery guy staring at him as he makes his way back to his truck. He must look like such a lovestruck idiot but he doesn't even care. Things between him and Vanessa are good right now. Their last few dates haven't ended in him abandoning her during a blackout, so they're victories in his book.

When he comes back into the store, Usnavi’s almost mad at himself for expecting his cousin to be doing what he told him to do.

“Sonny, I asked you to restock the newspapers, not read them,” Usnavi tells him.

Sonny, who’s leaning against the counter with a newspaper in his hands, glances up at his cousin and casually shrugs. “You’re the one who’s always telling me I should read more,” he points out, flipping to the next page.

Usnavi resists the urge to roll his eyes. The effort would be wasted, considering Sonny’s not looking at him. Sonny is the only 15 year old he knows who actually reads physical newspapers. Not that it’s bad to be informed about current events, but not when he’s on the clock.

Usnavi takes one of the newspapers from the abandoned bundle, rolls it up, and whacks the back of Sonny’s head with it. Just enough to knock his hat off, but not enough to really hurt. Didn’t stop Sonny from carrying on like Usnavi had thrown a cinder block at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m so mean, making you do actual work at your job.” Nonetheless, Usnavi picks Sonny’s baseball cap up and places it back over his cousin’s curls because he’s totally not mean. “What are you even reading that’s so interesting?”

Sonny folds his newspaper back to the page he was originally on and hands it off to Usnavi. To his credit, Sonny does actually start restocking the newspaper stand while explaining, “The cops busted a puppy mill a few blocks from here.”

Usnavi finds the article, accompanied by a picture of stacks upon stacks of iron cages full of siberian huskies. The article was lengthy, so he skimmed. The words ‘starvation’ and ‘neglect’ stuck out.

“It’s messed up. Apparently they made the moms breed until their bodies couldn’t handle it anymore, and then they just killed them or let them die.”

“Jesus,” Usnavi muttered, scanning the article but still getting a good chunk of the dirty details. “That’s horrible.”

Sonny pauses for a fraction of a second. Usnavi has never really liked dogs, but of course he's not okay with any living creature being mistreated. It doesn’t mean he would ever… Would he?

Nah. Not even worth asking.

His older cousin reaches the end of the article, or he assumes he does because he adds, “At least they’re safe now.”

Now Sonny’s the one doing the work and Usnavi’s the one slacking off. He’d point it out but he doesn’t want to get whacked again.

“Yeah, that shelter they’re at is only a few blocks away, I think. Not that bad a walk,” Sonny mentions casually, finishing up refilling the rack. Apparently not casually enough, because Usnavi’s giving him a skeptical look as he properly folds the paper back up.

“Uh-huh.” He tosses his newspaper on the top of the rack.

Sonny goes over to straighten some pickle jars on the nearest shelf, if only to avoid making eye contact. “Sucks that those puppies went from a cramped cage to a slightly less cramped kennel though.”

The lack of eye contact isn’t doing much for him, as he can feel Usnavi’s eyes boring into the back of his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“... You don’t think it sucks?” Sonny puts a misplaced jar of mayonnaise back where it belongs. “That’s kinda cold, cuz.”

He can hear Usnavi sigh and he can definitely feel Usnavi put his hand on his shoulder and spin him around. “You know what I mean. Don’t play dumb.”

“But I’m good at it.”

Despite himself, Usnavi lets out a chuckle. Sometimes Sonny is kind of funny, when he’s not being a little shit.

“We can’t get a dog, Son. I’m always working, who would take care of it?”

“Uh, me?”

Usnavi lets out an actual laugh this time. Man, Sonny really is funny!

Sonny balks at the laughter. “What? I could!”

“You can barely keep yourself alive, mijo, let alone another living thing.” Usnavi gives him a small pat on the arm and goes behind the counter to check the lottery tickets. “When you’re on your own, you can do whatever you want but until then, no dog. Comprendes?”

Sonny sighs. “Si.”

As Sonny goes to the cooler to half-heartedly restock the cola champagne, Usnavi can’t help but feel bad. Sonny really doesn’t ask for much, mostly because he just takes it off the shelf and eats it before Usnavi can stop him, but did he really have to ask for a fucking dog?

He ignores the thought and goes back to sorting through the ticket sales. Sonny can’t have everything he wants. If it takes a few minutes of sulking before he gets over it, that’s just something he has to deal with.

//

It’s been more than a few minutes and Sonny’s still not over it.

To be specific, it’s been a day. Over twenty four hours later and, even though Sonny hasn’t directly asked, it's clear that it’s still on his mind.

The previous night, it was Sonny’s turn to pick what they watched while they ate dinner. Sonny had somehow gotten his hands on a documentary about puppy mills, which Usnavi forced him to switch out when he realized what it really was.

“It’s for school!” Sonny tried to tell him. “I need to be educated, cuz!”

“Nice try, it’s not even August,” Usnavi countered as he handed him their Jurassic Park DVD.

And just today, Sonny’s supposed to finish up replenishing their Goya shelves before going over to the Rosario apartment for Camila’s first venture into cuisine planning. But is he? Nope. He’s hunkered behind the shelf and on his phone, which Usnavi promptly swipes from him, only to find out he’s looking at the shelter’s webpage, which has a roster of all the puppies available for adoption.

Before Usnavi can reprimand him, Sonny’s one step ahead of him. “They named one of them Dom! We could pretend it’s short for Dominican Republic! Then you’d have to love him!”

Usnavi ignores the comment, clicks the phone off and says,“This is mine for the rest of the night. I said no dog, and I meant it.”

“Technically, I didn't ask for a dog. I asked for a puppy. That's like calling a baby a human.”

Usnavi tucks Sonny’s phone in his jeans pocket while giving him The Look (trademark pending). “I can keep your phone for the rest of your life, if you’d prefer.”

“Nah, nah, I’m good.” And, like that, Sonny goes back to stocking beans and Usnavi goes back to taking inventory on the opposite side of the shelf.

There’s a moment of silence between the cousins as they work on their respective tasks, until Usnavi decides to break it. “I’m not trying to be a hardass, mijo. You know that, right? Puppies are a lot of hard work and a lot of money.”

“It’s not like I don’t have money,” Sonny points out, spinning the cans so the labels face out in the way Usnavi’s always hounding him about. “I’m sitting on $32,000.”

“Not after taxes and that commission, you’re not,” Usnavi retorts. “Besides, you need to keep that saved up, not blow part of it on some stupid dog.”

Sonny fumbles for the pricing gun, slapping little red stickers on a few cans he missed when he started browsing puppies on his phone. “I wanted to use the money to make the world better. What’s better than giving a poor, defenseless creature who needs it a home?”

“They’re purebred Huskies, Sonny.” Usnavi, diligently taking notes on what he needed to order for the next shipment, snarkily adds, “When word gets to white kids that there’s a shelter full of them, they’ll be gone before you can say ‘Starbucks and chill’.”

Sonny rolls his eyes. Usnavi, despite not even being 25 yet, is completely clueless about millennial culture. “Cuz, I don’t care about what they look like. I don’t buy into that stuff. Dog breeds are a manmade construct resulting from 19th century Victorian England eugenics.”

“... I never should have let you start watching Adam Ruins Everything.”

“I’m just saying…” Sonny stacks the last of the cans and stands up. “I want to get one because they were treated like garbage by those breeders. I know they’re safe now but they’re probably still scared and lonely and…” Usnavi finally looks up from his clipboard and Sonny suddenly wishes the shelves were taller. He’s not getting ready to cry or anything, but he does feel far too vulnerable talking about this, so he glances away and shrugs, hands tucked in his short pockets. “I just don’t like thinking about anyone feeling that way, even if it is some stupid dog.”

Usnavi’s unable to help the feeling of pride swelling in his chest. Sonny cares so much about others, too much for his own good sometimes.

He makes his way back over to Sonny, resting his hands on his cousin’s upper arms and giving them a reassuring squeeze as he says, “You’re a good kid, Sonny. I know you want to give one of them a nice home but I really don’t think it’s a good idea to have something as needy as a puppy right now. We’re still adjusting to…” Usnavi clears his throat and changes the subject. “We’ve just gotten back into the swing of things, right? Throwing a puppy into the mix isn’t something either of us needs. Do you get what I’m saying?”

Sonny slowly but surely gives him a sad smile, a gentle reminder that even if he is disappointed, he’s not going to hold a grudge. “Yeah, ‘Navi. I get it. I won’t ask anymore.” After all, Usnavi’s done so much for Sonny. The least he can do is stop guilting him every ten seconds. Life has been pretty crazy since the lottery win, Abuela’s passing, and Usnavi’s last minute decision for him and Sonny to stay in Washington Heights. Adding a dog, which Usnavi has never been a fan of, into the pot probably wouldn’t help the poor guy’s stress levels out.

Usnavi sighs in relief. “Thanks, kid. Now…” He pulls the phone out of his pocket and hands it back to Sonny. “I know you’ve got fifty more minutes, but you can call it quits for tonight. Go see if Camila needs help with all that food.”

Sonny pockets the phone and gives him a real smile this time. And a hug for giving him his phone back early, but don’t tell anyone. Though the residents of the barrio would disagree, he’s got a rep to keep up.

“Thanks, cuz.” Once Usnavi lets him go, he makes his way to the exit but pauses halfway through the door. As the door chime fades, Sonny looks back and says, “I’m not technically asking, but would you ever consider letting me have a dog?”

Usnavi picks up the empty Goya box and stares at Sonny for what feels like forever but is really a couple of seconds. “If at some point, I felt like you were responsible enough to handle it… there is a chance I would maybe possibly think about potentially considering it.”

“That’s a yes!” Sonny cheers, pumping his fist and slamming the door shut.

“No, it’s not!” Usnavi shouts but Sonny’s already dashed across the street by the time he does.

//

“What’s this?” Nina holds up a whisk.

“Batidor,” Benny says confidently.

Nina smiles. “Right.” She holds up a wooden spoon. “What’s this?”

“Cuchara?” Benny says less confidently. “No wait, cuchillo, right?”

“You had it right the first time,” Nina tells her boyfriend, setting the cookware down so she can take his hands. “Relax. Don’t second-guess yourself. You’ve learned a lot in the past few weeks. Nobody learns a language in a day.”

Benny lets out a mixture of a laugh and a sigh, rubbing his thumbs along the back of Nina’s hands. “I know, I know. But in this city, saying you’re bilingual looks good on a resume.”

Nina nods. Benny’s been on a handful of interviews since the Rosarios sold the dispatch, but hasn’t heard anything back yet. Despite not completely accepting that Benny and Nina were an item, Kevin did write Benny an excellent letter of recommendation. The fact that his back was aching from Camila forcing him to sleep on the couch for refusing to write it the first time he asked had nothing to do with his change of heart. At least he really meant what he’d written.

“Your resume is great. You’re such a hard worker, and somebody’s going to see that and snag you up before you know it. Speaking of which, how do you say resume in-”

“Oye, can you two cut your little tutoring session short and help me out here?” Camila calls out from the other side of the kitchen. “People are going to start showing up any minute and I’m not going to take the blame for keeping them waiting.”

Even though Camila is more than a little stressed, there isn’t any actual harshness behind her tone. She’s a good cook and she knows she’s a good cook, but trying to plan a menu for a restaurant that might not even get anywhere other than in her daydreams is just a little overwhelming. The fact that she hadn’t actually planned for this practice dinner to happen, as Carla just started inviting people over, didn’t help.

The couple sheepishly get up from the kitchen table and get back to work. “Sorry, Mrs. R,” Benny says as he preps to slice potatoes again.

Camila turns from the stove and wags her spatula at him. “If I have to tell you one more time to call me Camila, I swear,” she teasingly scold him.

When the door opens and closes, they suspect it to be Kevin, only to find Sonny strolling into the kitchen. “Sup, Rosario fam?” Kid’s never been known to knock before entering a house that isn’t his.

“Sonny, hello!” Camila greets, handing the spatula over to Nina before she gives Sonny a quick hug. “You’re here early.”

“Yeah, cuz let me off work early, so I’m here to help,” Sonny tells her, hungrily eyeing the food bubbling over the stove. “Not that you need it, everything’s looking mad tasty.”

“You’ll definitely be more help than the lovebirds over there,” Camila snarkily stage-whispers, in the hopes that Benny and Nina will hear. They do, and they look very mock-offended. “Don’t stand there and look at me, prove me wrong and get back to work.”

The two return to their previously assigned tasks and Camila turns back to Sonny. “Wash your hands real quick and you can help me with the filling for the pasteles.”

“A’ight.” He goes over to the sink and does as he’s told. He made pasteles with Abuela a few times and Camila knows it. Every time they ever brought them over, she was almost upset at how good they were.

Nina looks up from cutting corn cobs and asks, “How have you been, Sonny?”

Sonny rinses the suds away, shrugs. “Usnavi hates all animals and also my happiness but other than that, can’t complain.”

Nina can’t help but giggle. Sonny’s still the king of exaggeration. When Sonny was nine years old and Nina still babysat him, he had once complained to her that Abuela forced him to write for hours and hours and hours, only to find out from Usnavi that he meant she made him write a couple thank you cards for birthday presents, which took ten minutes at the most.

Benny looks up from his meticulous potato slicing, eyebrow raised in amusement. “What’d he do this time, man? He yell at you for playing with pigeons again?”

Sonny glares at him as he dries his hands off on a hand towel and not his pants because he learned his lesson last time he did that around Camila. “That was one time, and I told you, I was not playing with it. It was looking at me funny and I was trying to let it know who’s boss.” Nobody decides to question or even really acknowledge what he just says. “Did y’all hear about that puppy mill that got busted up?” Sonny goes the stove and starts prepping the pork without even being asked or instructed to.

“Oh, I saw something on the news about that,” Camila sadly muses, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist. “It’s just awful to think that there are people out there who can be so cruel.”

Sonny solemnly nods. “The puppies are up for adoption and I made this mistake of thinking my cousin has a heart, so I’ve been asking if we could get one.”

Benny chuckles fondly, looking over at the teen. “I getchu, little dude. Pretty sure I asked my momma every day until I was eighteen if we could get a dog. Then I got out on my own, and realized that she was right, money don’t grow on trees.”

“Dear, puppies are a lot of work,” Camila told the teen as she chopped the peppers for the pasteles filling. “Usnavi has the store, and you’re going back to school in about a month. He probably doesn’t want you two to take on a responsibility that huge right now.”

Sonny quickly glances at her before going back to slicing meat. “You sound like Usnavi. Except it sounds better when you say it because you’re an adult and stuff.”

“Usnavi’s an adult, too.”

“Yeah, but you’re like… an adultier adult.”

All Camila can do is laugh. I mean, he’s not wrong.

“He told me he doesn’t think I’m responsible enough for a dog.” Sonny slides the meat off the cutting board and into the oiled pan, shaking his head at his cousin’s accusations. “Where’d he even get that idea from?”

“Every interaction he’s ever had with you?” Benny suggests, earning him a glare from the younger boy. “Hey, no need to pout.” He is not pouting! “If you want Usnavi to think you’re responsible, prove it to him.” Benny brings his finished potatoes along with Nina’s corn cobs for Camila to put in the dutch oven for the soup, giving Sonny some time to think over it.

He has a point. Actions speak louder than words. He can tell Usnavi he’s capable of taking care of a puppy until he’s blue in the face, but what good will that do him?

“Okay, okay, so how would I go about doing that?”

“You could try getting to work on time,” Nina suggests, wiping the corn juice on her hands onto a dishtowel. “Or actually paying Usnavi for the food you take from the bodega.”

Sonny stares at her, as if she just spoke gibberish. “I don’t have time for jokes, Nina.” Sonny goes back to stirring the sizzling pork, unable to see the look of amused bewilderment Nina sends his way.

“She has a point,” Benny tells him, clapping him on the shoulder before going back to Nina and the impromptu veggie prep station at the island. “I worked my ass off to show Mr. Rosario I wasn’t the stupid kid he used to know. You gotta do the same with Usnavi.”

Usnavi has been known to change his mind before… Sonny and him still being here and not in the Dominican Republic is living proof of that. However, Sonny doubts Pete could make a mural that could convince him about this particular subject.

“I don’t even think it’d make a difference. Cuz still treats me like a little kid. I could save someone from getting hit by a truck and he’d yell at me for crossing the street without looking both ways.”

Camila pauses for a moment. “Well, you really should look both ways before-” She catches Sonny looking at her in a way that screams, ‘I respect you but I do not need this nonsense’ so she stops short. “Sorry, I’m still a mom. And Usnavi may not have as much experience as me, but he’s still doing the best he can to do the best for you.”

Sonny doesn’t respond, busying himself with seasoning the filling. Camila’s known Sonny nearly his whole life, yet she never knew how well he knew his way around the kitchen. Either he knows the recipe by heart or he’s really good at faking the level of confidence he’s currently showcasing. Sonny’s not the best actor, so she assumes it’s the former. The boy never ceases to surprise her.

He didn’t say anything back, but he didn’t look opposed to what she said, so she continues. “When you dedicate yourself to caring for a child, you never really stop seeing them as a baby, no matter how old they get,” Camila explains. “Usnavi is your father in almost every sense, sweetheart. I’m sure it’s difficult for him to see you as the smart, capable young man you are instead of the little boy that followed him like a shadow.”

Sonny pauses as he considers this. “So what can I do to make him see that?”

“Nothing,” Nina says. “I’m nineteen and my mom still reminds me to brush my teeth every night.” She shoots her mother a look, complete with a cocked brow, and Camila’s caught, so all she can do is shrug.

“Oral hygiene is important. Now quit sassing me and check on the broth for the sancocho.”

//

Sonny practically waddles into the bodega, toting Tupperware containers of leftovers from Camila. Usnavi had to watch the store, but Camila still wanted him to try some of her appetizers.

“I brought gifts!” Sonny exclaims. Usnavi, who has practically fallen asleep at the counter, perks up instantly. “Pretty sure Mrs. R gave us more food to take home than she even made.”

Usnavi rubs his hands together before gesturing for Sonny to hurry up. Despite being in a store surrounded with food, he had never felt so hungry in his life. “What did we get?”

Sonny sets down the containers and Usnavi begins unlidding half of them as he lists off, “Sancocho, alcapurritas, the works.”

“Hope you don’t expect to get any of this,” Usnavi comments, pulling one of the fritters out of the layer of tin foil wrapping. It was still warm, and probably just as delicious as it had been a few hours ago.

Sonny glances at the alcapurrita in his cousin’s hand, a mixture of exhaustion and longing on his face. “I couldn’t fit any more food in me if I tried.”

Any time Camila hosted a dinner, it was a personal goal of hers for her guests to leave feeling sick… in a good way, of course.

“Good, maybe you'll finally stop eating my merchandise,” Usnavi says with a mouthful of fritters. He opens up the container with the pasteles and hesitates before picking one up.

“Anyway, everyone said hi and that they hope you can come to the main course deal Carla planned for tomorrow. Mrs. Rosario didn’t look as happy as everyone else did.” Sonny tucks his hands in his pockets. “Dani gave us the scoop from all the people in Bronx, but she says it's not the same because we don't know any of them. I get the feeling we will after a few more weeks of her filling us in.”

While Sonny chatters away about someone named Andre who’s screwing someone named Tamira, Usnavi slowly starts eating the pastele. Usnavi moans, throwing his head back and leaning against the counter as if he would pass out if he didn’t. “Dios mio, these taste just like Abuela’s. I never thought I would get to eat these again. I don’t know how Camila does it.”

Sonny can’t help but smile. “Actually, those were all me. Mrs. R told me not to let anyone let her take credit for those.”

Usnavi would stop to contemplate, but then his food would get cold. He knew Abuela had Sonny help her make the pasteles before, but he always thought by ‘help’, she meant he kept her company and occasionally added some salt. “Damn, mijo, I never knew you had it in you.”

Sonny modestly shrugs, but can’t help but smile. “You should really give me more credit, cuz. Every once in awhile I don’t fuck up.”

“Watch it,” Usnavi scolds, smacking his arm with his free hand.

Sonny just laughs before running out of dodge and Usnavi gives up the stern facade pretty quickly, letting out a chuckle of his own and shaking his head. Sometimes being a hardass is too tiring. He waves his cousin out the door before going back to stuffing the rest of the pastele into his mouth.

As he slowly makes his way up the steps to the apartment, he feels a buzz in his pocket. Sonny checks his phone, only to find a notification for a recent article from his local news app.

**Bail-to: Rescued Husky Pup Goes Missing From Shelter**


	2. Chillin' in the Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny sneaks out to hang with Graffiti Pete. An unexpected guest joins them, and Sonny's dumb ass gets attached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wow, planning for NaNoWriMo and having a full time job and applying for new jobs because I dislike my current job sure is fun, but I'd love to keep working on my Chip fic. When did I publish it? September 2nd?" *looks at calendar to see it's October 14th* "Well FUCK"
> 
> AHHHH I kept picking this up and dropping it again but I'm DETERMINED BECAUSE I NEED PUPPY CHIP IN MY LIFE

A pebble plinks against the glass of Usnavi and Sonny’s bedroom window.

A slightly larger pebble follows. Sonny ignores it, rolls over in bed. Probably just his imagination.

His phone vibrating under his pillow isn’t.

Sonny squints as the screen lights up with a text notification.

 **Pete**  
_GET UR ASS UP OUTTA BED BEFORE I BREAK UR WINDOW_

Oh, right. He’s supposed to meet Pete this morning.

Making sure Usnavi’s actually asleep, Sonny trades his baggy sleep t-shirt for a clean tank top, slips on his cargo shorts from yesterday and his Nikes before making his way out of the apartment as quietly as possible. Usnavi’s not supposed to be up for another few hours, so hopefully he won’t notice he’s gone. He hasn’t yet.

As he walks out on the stoop, he can hear Pete make his way down the bottom half of the fire escape. They have this down to an art, at this point. Pete signals Sonny down one of the lower fire escapes, Sonny sleeps through it, Pete frustratedly texts him, and Sonny sneaks out the front door.

The one time Pete tried to open the window for Sonny, Usnavi woke up and thought Pete was trying to break in. Needless to say, it’s easier this way. That, and Pete doesn’t end up with a concussion this way.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Sonny makes his way over to Pete as he jumps down from the fire escape ladder. “So where you draggin’ me this time?”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Pete says, giving him a friendly punch in the arm. “I’ve been working on this piece all night. Trust me, it’ll be worth sneaking past the warden.”

Despite the mocking nickname, things have been pretty good between Usnavi and Pete since he painted Abuela’s mural. When Pete steps into the bodega, the first words out of Usnavi’s mouth aren’t “Get the hell out of here” and he hasn’t even hit him with the broom once!

Sonny scoffs. “The warden. Please, I can come and go whenever I want. He ain’t the boss of me.”

Pete ignores the absolute falseness of those statements and instead says, “You work at his store, so he technically is the boss of you.”

Sonny gives him a less-than-friendly punch, which Pete just laughs off. A high-pitched bark cuts him off.

The two teens turn to find a small husky puppy, no older than six weeks, staring exclusively at Sonny. He toddles closer, sniffs at the pocket of his cargo shorts, and barks again.

Sonny rubs at one of his eyes again. Maybe he’s still asleep. Why else would what he’s assuming is the puppy from the article he read right before he went to sleep be standing right in front of him? What are the odds of that happening?

Apparently very likely, because he’s still there.

Pete crouches down and gives the pup a few scratches under the chin. “Yo, this must be the dog from that article you sent me.”

“You read it?” Pete cares about stuff happening in the city, but not to the extent Sonny does.

“I read the title.” At least he’s trying.

The puppy accepts the rubs, but he only has eyes for Sonny. He nudges his nose against the pocket of Sonny’s shorts, staring up at him with the glossiest eyes.

Sonny digs around, pulling out a rolled-up, half-eaten snack pack of potato chips. “Ah, so this is what you’re after.” He dumps what’s left of the baggie into his hand and kneels down. The puppy eats it up at an alarming rate, even for a puppy. “Poor little guy, probably hasn’t had anything to eat since yesterday.”

“Are dogs even supposed to eat chips?”

As the husky laps up the last of the crumbs, Sonny rubs the slobbery hand on his shorts and shrugs. “Yeah, they’re made out of potatoes. Those are vegetables, and vegetables are good for you.”

“Whatever you say, Son.” Pete stands up. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

Sonny would look up at Pete incredulously, but he’s too busy giving the puppy head scratches. “We can’t just leave him out here, Pete!”

“He managed to sneak past an entire staff of people and just walk out the front door, man. This dog’s probably smarter than both of us.”

“Still, we should at least take him to the shelter.”

Pete wants the puppy to get back safe and sound, but he also wants Sonny to get back safe and sound and on time so he doesn’t lose what little new-found credibility he has with Usnavi. “The shelter’s not gonna be open for hours.”

Sonny stands back up, tucking the empty chip bag back in his pocket instead of in the garbage can he’s standing right next to. Pete doesn’t bother to point that out. “Then I guess he’s sticking with me until then.”

Pete shrugs and continues walking. There’s no point in arguing with Sonny when he sets his mind on something. Besides, it is a cute dog. His heart’s not made of stone.

Sonny looks down and gestures for the puppy to come with them. “Come on, boy!”

Miraculously, the husky obeys his order, following the boys as fast as his stubby little legs can take him. Or rather, Sonny starts walking and the puppy follows of his own free will. Still, Sonny likes to think he’s just a natural at puppy-whispering.

If he can’t have a puppy for real, he can at least have one for a few hours.

* * *

If Sonny thought he loved the idea of having a puppy before, he realizes he loves the reality of it even more.

He doesn’t know a lot about puppies, not as much as someone who practically begged for one should, but he knows they’re not usually as chill as this one. He never once strays away from Sonny and Pete on their journey, and when they finally get to Pete’s latest smattering of spray paint, he sits without even being commanded to do so. Sonny wouldn’t have even noticed he was there if he hadn’t settled down next to the puppy to give him a few pets while he talked to Pete.

“So, uh, what’s it supposed to be?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Pete muses, shaking a new spray can before getting back to adding to the assortment of colors on the brick wall of an abandoned business. That’s one thing Sonny likes about Pete’s work; he rarely plans any of it ahead of time and just lets whatever happens happen. His mural of Abuela is probably the most concrete subject he’s ever tackled.

“Yeah, yeah, I get you. It’s like… abstract or something.” Sonny starts giving the puppy some good old-fashioned belly scratches. In response, the pup practically melts, flopping onto his back and happily panting.

And, as with most of their sunrise graffiti sessions, the two talk about whatever happens to cross their minds. Sonny occasionally vents about something Usnavi did to annoy him, Pete will bring up places they should check out before school starts again. The first few times they did this after Usnavi decided to stay mostly consisted of them talking about… well, Usnavi deciding to stay. To say the two were relieved Sonny wasn’t uprooted from everything and everybody he knew would be an understatement.

Pete’s not super chatty, which is probably why Sonny enjoys these early mornings with him so much. When he’s in his element, when he’s really comfortable, when he’s with Sonny, Pete can’t talk to him about his life fast enough. It’s nice.

But, unfortunately, Usnavi not killing him for sneaking out is nice too, so they have to get him back sooner than either boy would like.

There’s a comfortable silence between them, walking practically shoulder to shoulder. Pete glances down at the pup, who is somehow managing to walk between Sonny’s legs. “Surprised he stuck with us for this long.”

Sonny peeks down at the puppy, who cranes his little neck to return the look at his new friend, tongue hanging out of his mouth. “Yeah, me too.” In all honesty, Sonny thought he only followed him because he thought he had more food to give him, and he’d have to force him to stay with them so he could return him to the shelter, but the little guy is still by his side without even hinting at begging for more chips.

Well, right now he’s more under him than by his side, but this is nice too.

When they stop at a halfway point between Sonny’s place and Pete’s place, Pete looks down at the surprisingly chill puppy. “How’d you plan on explaining him to your cuz?”

Sonny shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.”

Pete doesn’t look amused. Figures Sonny would use his own words against him. Well, not so much against him as it is against Sonny’s well-being. “Just don’t let him know I was involved. I don’t need you gettin’ grounded and shit while I’m in the middle of an artistic breakthrough.”

Ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks, Sonny mutters, “I’m not a little kid, I don’t get grounded.”

Pete could bring up several instance to prove just how false that statement is, but he doesn’t. Don’t let anyone tell you he isn’t nice.

“It’s not like I adopted him or something,” Sonny says. “I’m just keeping him safe until I can take him to the shelter. I’ll just say I got up early to take a walk or something and found him out here alone. That's technically the truth.”

“Good, ‘cause you suck at lying. Especially to him.”

“No I don’t!” Sonny half-shouts, an octave higher than usual.

“The last time we smoked a bowl at my place and I brought you back for your shift, Usnavi asked what that smell was and you said ‘weed’ like almost immediately.”

“I was trying to use reverse psychology!” Sonny changes the subject before Pete can mention that was definitely an instance where he got his ass grounded. “Look, I got this. Go off and do whatever it is you do when I’m not around… What is that, by the way?”

Pete shrugs, slowly backing away. “What’s life without a little mystery?” he rhetorically asks before waving and turning around to walk off.

“Yo, stop answering my questions with more questions!” Sonny watches him for a moment before looking back down at the puppy. “Well, looks like it’s you and me, buddy.”

The puppy has settled down on the concrete at this point. Keeping up with his new friend has been exhausting.

“Well, guess there’s no point taking you home just to bring you back downstairs. Might as well take you to the store.” Sonny pats his thighs like he’s seen other dog owners do. “C’mon, let’s keep going.”

All he gets is a blink in response.

Sonny casually shrugs, as if the animal is capable of understanding the gesture. “Okay, fair enough. You’ve probably been walking around all night.” He lifts the pup into his arms, earning a lick on the cheek. Sonny wrinkles his nose, but laughs. “You’re lucky you’re so cute. You reek. I’d call you Trash Dog, but I ain’t gonna do that because giving you a name will make me attached.” Said trash dog gives him another little lick. “But it’s kinda too late for that, man.”

He carries the little fluffy bundle in his arms to the bodega, begging he doesn’t run into Usnavi on the way there. Logically, Sonny knows he’s going to have to explain this but he wants some time to get his story straight. Checking the time on his phone really quick, he sees his lollygagging hasn’t given him much time to think of said explanation. Either way, his cousin isn’t going to be happy about having a random animal in his store.

 _“It’s the right thing to do!”_ Sonny imagines himself telling his cousin.

 _“I don’t care, it’s my store and I want that thing out of here!”_ the imaginary Usnavi in his head shouts. _“I’m a big dork and I’m giving you a raise for being cooler and better than me!”_

Okay, so maybe Sonny’s imagining of how the situation would go is a little off. It’s early, give him a break.

Usnavi’s not completely unreasonable. If he tells him he's just waiting for the shelter to open so he can return the puppy, he'll have to understand, right?

When the reach the corner store, the sleepy pup instantly perks up. He barks, his eyes set on the grate. Rather, who he sees on the grate.

“You like it?” Sonny smiles at him, looks at the mural. “That’s my abuela. You woulda liked her. She probably woulda liked you too.”

He pulls his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the front door, noting the puppy’s whimpers when he can no longer see the mural.

Sonny shuts the door behind him, giving his fuzzy friend a few belly rubs to get him to stop. “Geez, you really like that mural, huh?” He didn’t get that worked up over the one Pete was working on.

On the way to the backroom, Sonny swipes a can of wet dog food and a bottle of water. After, he sets the puppy down and starts prepping the new meal.

Usnavi doesn’t keep much stocked in the way of pet food. Not many people in the barrio have pets, so he’s not making much money off keeping kibble stocked in the store. Still, there’s a few cans of wet dog food that have probably been in the store longer than Sonny’s been alive.

Sonny peels the lid off and tries not to gag at the smell. “Yum,” he sarcastically quips, setting the can in front of the puppy.

The puppy sniffs the contents of the can and doesn’t even bother giving the food a nibble before turning away from it.

Sonny wants to tell the dog that he should be grateful for whatever slop he can get his paws on, but he’s gone on too many Twitter rants about people with the same ideals who donate expired cans of chickpeas to food pantries to do so with a clear conscience.

“You don't want it?” Sonny picks up the can and cringes. “Yeah, guess I can't blame you.” He tosses it in the trash and sighs, “You gotta be hungry though, huh? What else we got?” Sonny rummages through some of the boxes in the stock room before he finds something he knows the rascal will like.

He comes back with a bag of wavy potato chips and the puppy practically climbs him to get to the bag, yapping as he bounces.

“Shh!” Sonny crouches down and rips the bag open immediately to shut him up. “You’re gonna wake the whole damn neighborhood!” He shakes a few chips into his hand and feeds them to the husky. “I’m not gonna let you eat these all the time, you gotta eat real food sooner or later.”

Damn, he sounds like Usnavi when he lets him have Hot Pockets for dinner.

Wait, did he say ‘all the time’? No, there’s not going to be an all the time because Sonny’s taking him back.

But what if he just… doesn’t do that?

Sonny thinks back to what he read. The humane society that took the puppies in got them vaccinated and treated them for worms and fleas and all that stuff. So… If he brought him home, it wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Usnavi would literally kill him but at least the few dogs that are in the neighborhood wouldn’t get a disease. Always gotta look on the bright side.

No! No no no. There’s no way he’ll ever be able to convince his cousin. His life would be over if Usnavi found out.

Sonny takes another look at the puppy, who’s looking up at him with those dewy eyes and licking potato chip crumbs off of his fluffy chin, and realizes he doesn’t fucking care.

* * *

Sonny dares to interrupt Pete doing whatever it is Pete does when Sonny’s not around (he still has no clue what that is, by the way) by giving him a call. That way, Pete will know he means business.

He answers on the second ring. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Then text me that shit. Damn near gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry. Look, it’s just… So, uh, you know how I said I was going to return the puppy to the shelter?”

“Yeah?” Pete pauses, waits for his best friend to say something. All he hears is the familiar crunch of a potato chip.

“Well, now his name is Chip and he's staying with me forever and also I love him.”

“I left _eight minutes_ ago.”

Sonny doesn’t have time for this. “I need someplace to keep him while I think of a way to convince ‘Navi to let me keep him. Can he stay at your place?”

“Nah, man, my place doesn’t allow pets.”

“Since when do you care about rules?”

“Since my rent’s hella cheap and I’m not about to get kicked out ‘cause you’re scared of your noodle of a cousin.”

Sonny wants to counter that he’s not scared of Usnavi, but Pete has a point. About the getting kicked out thing, at least. He’s not going to risk the closest thing Pete’s had to a stable home because of his antics. “Yeah, yeah, good point. Okay, I’ll think of something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, man, I’ll figure it out!” Sonny hangs up and looks at Chip. The puppy stares at his new owner and licks the crumbs off of his little black nose. “Don’t look at me like that, I will! You’ll see!”

The bell over the front door chimes and it makes Sonny jump. He didn’t even have a plan for what he was going to tell his cousin when he intended on taking Chip back, let alone now! He can’t go back now, not since he’s named him!

Before Sonny can react, he places the newly named Chip in one of the giant empty cardboard boxes they keep in the backroom with the chip bag and a bowl of water and orders him to be quiet. Chip seems content enough with his treat, so Sonny shuts the flaps and makes his way out to the front.

Usnavi’s looking out the front window, phone in his hand. “Of course I looked in the kitchen, Benny, he’s nowhere in the apartment!” Usnavi scratches the back of his neck, frantically searching for Sonny outside. “He’s not picking up his phone, either. Are you sure you haven’t seen him?”

Sonny pulls his phone out, only to find seven texts and two missed calls from Usnavi, all that happened during his phone call with Pete. Whoops.

He must be on speaker, because Benny, clear as day, says, “The only thing I’d seen before you called was the inside of my eyelids. Look, don’t jump to any conclusions, man.”

Usnavi starts pacing, completely ignoring Sonny standing there. “What else am I supposed to jump to when I wake up to find my little cousin missing? What if he-”

“Hi, cuz,” Sonny casually greets, holding up a hand.

“I’m on the phone, Sonny,” Usnavi says almost instinctually. “What if he-” He stops again, realizing he can only scold Sonny if Sonny is there. Usnavi sags with relief. “Ay dios mio,” he sighs, and Sonny thinks he’s going to get a hug but all he gets is a smack to the back of the head. “What the hell are you doing down here?”

“I… work here?”

Sonny can faintly hear Benny say, “You didn’t think to look in the store you own right under your apartment before you called me in a panic?” Usnavi hangs up on him.

“I meant why are you here now?” Usnavi took his hat off to run his hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his. “Damn kid, scared me half to death.”

Sonny sheepishly rubs the spot Usnavi whacked him. “Sorry, cuz, I just wanted to… open the store for you.”

Now that Usnavi’s anxiety has calmed slightly, he seems more reasonable. Still, that doesn’t mean he can process what Sonny just told him. “What?”

Sonny doesn’t know whether to feel pride or shame over how effortlessly that lie slipped out. “Yeah, yeah, you’re always telling me off for being late, so I tried to be… not late.”

“Are you sick or something, mijo?” Usnavi places his hand on Sonny’s forehead, which he almost immediately slaps away. “Your solution to anything has never been ‘show up early’.”

Sonny shrugs. “First time for everything, I guess.”

Usnavi stares at his cousin, not with suspicion, but… Wait, he actually looks kind of impressed. That can’t be right.

Just when he thinks Usnavi’s already figured everything out and is just trying to think of what murder weapon he plans on using, the older man simply shrugs, pats him on the back. “Guess so.” He goes over to open the register and Sonny finally feels like he can breathe again.

Usnavi thinks he’s responsible _and_ he has a puppy? Man, maybe Sonny should lie more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No wonder Sonny/Pete is so popular, it's fun to write for, even if it's not romantic.
> 
> Do you know how many times I accidentally called Chip by his name before he was actually named? A lot.
> 
> Wait for the next chapter that'll come out hopefully less than a month and a half from now.


End file.
